Part One: Gentle Gentile’s Genitals
I’ll tell you the truth. According to priests, my birth wasn’t really anything special. I have to confess, my mother wasn’t even a virgin.
Like most babies, I had no visible halo. I wasn’t born in a manger, but in a hospital in Salt Lake City with a bunch of other burbling infants. I didn’t look anything like a little angel, unless little angels are cross-eyed hams who can’t control the release time of various body fluids when held above the facial area.
It seemed from the start that I was just another human being. I brought no great ideas about God to share with the universe, and I still don’t have any. In fact, in the beginning I had no ideas at all. I greeted strangers not with salvation, but with salivation.
I exhibited no signs of Divine origin, though I would frequently discover exciting new bodily sounds and scents, and would attempt to point them out victoriously to Mom. Though I found these feats to be magical, she was rarely impressed, and never even once considered my astonishing performances to be Miracles. To my disappointment I was never brought any gold, myrrh or frankincense (though someone may have lit some incense).
